Chapter 765: Audience from the High Priest

Chapter 765: Audience with the High Priest

A strange shudder, a terrifying warning; Karen had long grown accustomed to omitting "Praise Order," but this time, he had a feeling that if he chose to "slack off" here, he would inevitably be detected.

Detected by whom?

Karen did not know.

This divine office temple, used by successive High Priests, perhaps contained an even more peculiar secret. In the unseen realm, perhaps there truly was a pair of eyes constantly reviewing the absolute loyalty of those who came here to the God.

The prayer of praise concluded, and everyone reseated themselves.

The sudden agenda items had already been deliberated, or rather, personally deployed by the High Priest, but the meeting was not over. It seemed the regular meeting that occurred at set intervals was being continued. In the remaining time, the heads of various systems began to deliver their work reports, occasionally interspersed with discussions on handling affairs, somewhat resembling the imperial audiences in Karen's cognition.

The rhythm of the entire meeting was completely mastered by the High Priest.

The High Priest sat in his seat, with no materials whatsoever in his hands, yet he could accurately recall various issues and data off the top of his head. While the heads of the systems would occasionally stumble and reflect during their reports, the High Priest never did.

This was a High Priest with an extremely formidable character; his desire for control was exceedingly strong. He would not become hysterical, but if one worked under him and faced him directly, it would be very easy for that person to become hysterical.

Therefore, the bosses sitting here were by no means ordinary people.

From the beginning until now, apart from standing collectively to praise the God of Order, Karen had little sense of participation, so most of the time he spent gazing at the backs of the heads of several bosses in front of him.

Especially the back of the Foreign Minister's head, which was highly artistic, philosophical, and political.

Logically speaking, the Ministry of Foreign Affairs was a department that placed considerable weight on personal image and was one of the windows through which the Church of Order displayed itself to the outside world, so this hairstyle was bound to lose some points.

However, if one combed through this Foreign Minister's resume before he took office, it would not be difficult to see the reason why he could sit in this position.

Before this minister's middle age, he had basically spent his time in the Knights, and like Bart, came from a legitimate lineage of the Knights.

Afterward, for nearly twenty years, he had been working in the opening of spaces, moving from a squad leader in a space to an expansion brigade commander, then to the head of a certain expansion space, and then to a member of the planning and policy office for expansion spaces...

The attitude of the major churches toward the natives of the expansion spaces had always been extremely unyielding; words with highly negative attributes such as massacre, cleansing, and extermination were almost commonplace there.

Once Norton assumed the position of High Priest, he was transferred back to serve as the Foreign Minister of the Church of Order, which was also a way for the High Priest to express his attitude to the outside world.

This was no longer just hawkish; it was the executioner faction.

The Minister reached out to scratch the back of his head, then casually glanced back at Karen sitting behind him, a faint smile on his lips, before turning back to continue the meeting.

In a meeting presided over by the High Priest, naturally no one would dare to whisper below.

Karen knew that his gaze must have been somewhat too "direct," triggering the other party's awareness.

Leaning his back slightly against the chair, he tried as much as possible to make himself more comfortable through micro-adjustments, but right at that moment, Karen suddenly perceived that the chair beneath him had lost its balance.

This was absolutely not caused by adjusting his posture; it was like a sudden weightlessness during sleep, completely failing to find a point of leverage.

But in the next instant, Karen's gaze immediately froze, and he bit the tip of his tongue, breaking free from that sensation to sit firmly once more.

Cold sweat drenched his back in an instant.

It was not fear in hindsight, but regret...

This was the office temple of the Church of Order, heavily guarded, where the heads of various systems were currently sitting to hold a meeting. How could it possibly encounter an external assault or an internal assassination?

Most importantly, assassinating him in York City was one thing, but having arrived here, ignoring so many big shots to continue targeting a mere district director like him—did this assassin possess any sense of scale?

Therefore, it should not be an extraordinary accident, but rather resembled some sort of arrangement, and he, relying on his overly resilient soul strength and driven by instinct, had rejected this arrangement.

Karen subconsciously raised his head, catching a glimpse of the High Priest's figure above through the gaps between the backs of the big shots' heads. The High Priest was still discussing work issues with a big shot; everything appeared completely normal.

Yet Karen was certain that if it was an arrangement, it must have come from the High Priest.

Even his own Whip-Bearer sat very properly while attending the meeting here; others had no reason and dared even less to hold a "private meeting" at this time.

At this moment, two thoughts occupied Karen's mind. The first thought was regret:

Oh, heavens, look at that, what on earth did I miss?

The second thought was anticipation:

Could it happen one more time? This time I definitely won't resist.

...

Inside the meeting hall of the office temple, the meeting was still continuing.

But right next to the meeting hall—strictly speaking, behind the seating rows, with no barrier to block it and completely unconcealed—there was a recessed circular platform wrapped in flowing water, inside of which were placed a sofa and a coffee table.

The High Priest, dressed in black loungewear, was sitting on the sofa, a cigar held between his fingers, flipping through a novel resting on his lap.

An identical self was holding the meeting, while an identical self was relaxing.

The closest person to Norton as he read was actually Karen, who sat alone in the very last row.

Karen was now only about a meter away from Norton.

Norton had said he wanted to meet Karen.

In fact, after saying it, he had "forgotten."

For a High Priest possessing terrifying memory and cognitive faculties, "forgetting" was merely an excuse; he did not particularly care.

Therefore, he had not arranged for anyone to specifically notify Verden to bring anyone over.

And logically speaking, Mobiten, as his captain of the guard, could not possibly dispatch someone on his own to notify the Whip-Bearer; his position dictated that he could not do such a thing.

Yet things were just that wondrous; Karen had actually tagged along and had even entered.

Not meeting him was not a matter of great concern; conversely, meeting him was not a matter of great concern either.

In Norton's view, this young district director truly possessed excellent fortune and was a lucky lad.

Thus, Norton snapped his fingers.

Karen's chair instantly lost weight; when he fell back, he would arrive "here" and "see" him.

But after a snap of the fingers, Karen's chair did rock, yet as it rocked, it steadied itself back.

This aroused Norton's interest, prompting him to intentionally move his gaze from the book and let it land squarely upon Karen.

He had not used force earlier; it was just a simple mental pull. But even so, being able to break free from his mental pull without making any noticeable movement meant that this young district director of the Church possessed an exceedingly high soul strength.

Yet on this district director's past resume, he liked to rush to the front lines for many matters, so he clearly should have followed the development path of a warrior. In reality, however, his soul strength far exceeded that of ordinary spellcasters or array masters.

Interesting.

Norton picked up the wine glass in front of him and took a sip of red wine.

Everyone possessed their own secrets. As the current absolute superior, he would only resent his subordinates concealing or plotting regarding work, but in terms of personal cultivation and development, he was very open-minded, because having no secrets in this aspect would be truly strange.

Right at that moment, Norton saw Karen manipulating his chair, deliberately attempting to tilt the chair back—once, twice, three times...

This young district director understood;

This young district director regretted it;

This young district director wanted to try one more time;

"Hahahahahahahahaha!"

Norton burst into loud laughter, laughing so hard that tears almost trickled out.

These minor details and careful thoughts of Karen's had truly struck the High Priest's sense of humor in an instant.

Furthermore, with only himself existing here, he required absolutely no disguise whatsoever and could express his emotions wantonly.

At last, the Grand Priest ceased his laughter, drawing a deep breath to compose his emotions.

It had been a very long time since he had laughed in such a manner.

He snapped his fingers once more, this time with a force many times lighter than before.

...

"Hum!"

The familiar sensation of weightlessness finally reappeared; though it was faint, Karen seized upon it decisively, not only suppressing his instinct to resist but actively leaning into it.

Finally, the chair lost its balance completely, and Karen’s consciousness seemed to detach from his body, tumbling backward; before hitting the ground, he could still see "himself" sitting in his original place, listening intently to the meeting.

The moment his back struck the ground, it felt as though he had plunged into the surface of water.

With a sharp splash, Karen sank to the bottom and then rapidly floated back up; upon poking his head out, he saw the sunken circular dais before him and the man sitting on the sofa, reading a book.

The "identical twin brother" of this man seemed to still be conducting the meeting at this very moment.

Karen gripped the edge of the platform with both hands and hauled himself up; once clear of the water, the dampness upon him vanished entirely, and he landed on the platform, crossing his arms over his chest as he bowed to the reading Norton:

"My respects to the Grand Priest!"

"Sit."

"Yes, Grand Priest."

Karen took a seat on the adjacent sofa.

The Grand Priest turned a page and continued reading, seemingly disinclined to initiate a conversation, and since he remained silent, it was ill-advised for Karen to speak—it would hardly do to foolishly ask: Grand Priest, have you eaten?

Beneath the coffee table lay several stacks of books; they were not sacred ecclesiastical texts, but mostly novels, all of them contemporary works published within the last few years.

Quite a few of them Karen had already read, as he harbored a reading habit of his own.

He recalled that while accompanying the Whip-Bearer to catch ants in the past, Foden had mentioned that the Grand Priest enjoyed reading.

It seemed this was indeed the truth.

Karen noticed that some of the books lacked even covers, evidently being temporary bindings, which meant they had yet to be published.

Well, there was nothing strange about that; for the Grand Priest of the Order to desire a look at drafts, how significant a matter could that possibly be?

Sitting there, Karen deliberately fixed his gaze upon the book titles on the coffee table, scanning them from top to bottom, and after one pass, he scanned them a second time, and after the second, a third.

One had to find an opportunity to speak, and such an opportunity should not be sought by the Grand Priest; it had to be actively created by oneself.

Even if it appeared a bit foolish, or even somewhat "naively endearing."

Just as he had previously swayed his chair backward on purpose, it was actually an attempt to act "cute," hoping that if "that one" saw it and smiled, he might be willing to pull him in a second time.

At different levels of the food chain, one had to recognize one's own position; since one could not remain entirely devoid of desires, one had to strive with all one's might.

Finally, Karen’s wait was rewarded as the Grand Priest spoke.

"You like reading as well?"

Having already rehearsed his reply to this exact question in his mind, Karen responded immediately:

"Your subordinate enjoys the immersion and tranquility found while reading."

Norton placed the book in his hand face down on the coffee table; the title was *The Great Chasm of the Sky*, which Karen translated internally as *The Pit*.

The author was a Vienese, though not from York City, but rather a relatively famous writer of disaster fiction in Vienne.

Karen spoke up proactively: "I have read this book."

"Oh?" Norton crossed his legs and picked up a cigar. "How did it strike you?"

"When first reading this author's debut work, it felt quite fresh, but after reading several more of his books, one finds they essentially all taste the same."

Norton remarked, "Is that so? Yet his works present a new crisis every time, which is hardly identical."

"The crises and disasters differ, but the perspective presented in the author's books remains consistent—it is always a view through the lens of an ordinary little person who watches, undergoes, experiences, and then comprehends and achieves sublimity."

"Do you find that objectionable?"

"No, I think it is quite good; a personal perspective is easier to inhabit and more readily evokes resonance, but the author has become far too familiar with and master of this narrative technique, applying the same formula to every single volume, so that after reading a few, the scope begins to feel narrow, and it easily grows tedious."

"That is indeed a rather novel perspective, particularly for priests like us who are accustomed to the grand narratives of ecclesiastical texts. Nowadays, even certain works within the literary circles of the Church are gradually pondering the detachment of perspective between the individual and sacred history, advocating the separation and liberation of humanity from divinity, and reflecting upon the oppression and enslavement of humanity by divinity. Do you mean to say you do not agree with this?"

I could certainly agree with it, but why then is not a single book of that nature placed beneath your coffee table?

"I used to agree with it."

"Used to?"

"Back when I first became a priest."

"Heh, you possess quite the courage, telling your Grand Priest that back when you first became a priest, you agreed with this notion of being oppressed and enslaved by divinity."

"A person's cognition develops step by step; understanding is a process," Karen said quite candidly. "Facing one's past self honestly is not at all incompatible with reflecting upon, correcting, and even denying that past self."

"Meaning you have changed now? And what brought this about?"

"When I was still a low-ranking priest, I witnessed much of the darkness within our own Church..."

Karen was well aware that the Grand Priest undoubtedly knew his dossier.

"Of course, I have also witnessed the light... the glimmer of humanity.

I have been to the Valley of Samsara, and I have seen the countless souls reared within the Gates of Samsara; I have been to the Subterranean Church, and I have seen just how frigid and cruel the true survival model of a church can be; I have interacted with many other churches, and had the *Regulations of Order* not existed, I cannot even fathom the methods they would employ to... rear and cook this world."

This was, in truth, the transformation of Karen’s attitude toward the Church of Order and the God of Order, as well as the process of his becoming familiar with and understanding this world ever since he woke up within it.

In the shadows, certain traits possessed the power to attract one another.

Just as earlier in the desert, Dariwenluo's phrase "Praise life" had struck a chord within Karen, prompting his decision to have him "swiftly placed in a coffin."

And standing from the perspectives of Karen and Norton, though neither party was fully aware of the other’s deepest, true secrets, there was a sense that a subtle mutual understanding could be achieved.

After all, in essence, they were both lonely, misunderstood by the mainstream, and even... in need of concealment.

Norton set down his wine glass and uncrossed his legs; he looked at Karen and asked, "Then, what is your view on this era in which the gods do not manifest?"

Karen hesitated for a brief moment, but in the end, he smiled and said:

"This is truly a beautiful era."

However, this response failed to elicit a positive reaction from the Grand Priest.

The Grand Priest crossed his legs once more, picked up his cigar, and placed the unfinished book back upon his knees.

"Attend to your duties well."

"Yes, Grand Priest."

Though he knew not why the previously harmonious atmosphere had suddenly chilled, Karen understood the protocol enough to rise and take his leave; he stepped off the platform, plunging back into the water, and when he opened his eyes once more, he was back in his seat within the council chamber.

The meeting was still underway, and the Grand Priest was currently questioning Foden regarding the operations of the Whip of Order.

And upon the circular dais, Norton’s gaze fell once more upon Karen.

He detected a deliberate quality—a sort of calculated deliberation born of deep reflection; he was not so naive as to believe this was the absolute truth of Karen’s inner thoughts, for he felt that Karen had been coached.

He knew that his own secrets were not entirely confidential; among the trusted followers who had accompanied him step by step to this day, some had long since seen through it, but he did not care.

Thus, Norton believed that the words and principles spoken by Karen were coached, much like a child rehearsed beforehand by an adult, then sent into a family gathering to perform and draw applause and praise.

Foden, was it you who taught him?

Or was it you, Morindi, who whispered something to him before you breathed your last?

Or is there someone else lurking behind the scenes, casting a shadow of influence over him, scripting the play he acts out?

Norton tilted his head slightly.

"Or could it be that these are truly the genuine thoughts from the deep recesses of your young heart?"

Norton stood up and set his book down. The elders of the temple had arrived; this clone of his could not rest, for he had to go and handle them.

He had recently slaughtered a batch of clones, which left his current supply of avatars somewhat strained.

"Alas, it seems I must spare two or three more next time, otherwise I will be so dreadfully busy that even a moment of respite will become a luxury."

...

The meeting concluded, and the assembly dispersed.

Karen followed Foden as they walked outside. Beyond the administrative temple, Foden paused to converse with the leaders of two other systems, while Karen stood quietly behind him, waiting in silence.

He used this interlude to reflect upon his words and demeanor when facing the High Priest earlier. He felt he had done nothing wrong, but if he were to nitpick, it was perhaps a little too deliberate.

Yet, how could such deliberateness be easily erased?

Particularly when the High Priest posed that final question to him, his response had actually been quite natural. But looking back now, that very naturalness seemed to carry an even deeper layer of deliberation. What clergyman would naturally lament how wonderful an era without gods truly was?

Forget it, he would dwell on it no longer. In any case, he would not be crossing paths with the High Priest anytime soon. He ought to focus on handling his affairs in the York City Region first, taking it one step at a time, for one cannot leap across bounds in such a manner.

Ending his contemplation, Karen used the corner of his eye to observe the grand hall. When he had entered earlier, he truly had no opportunity to stop and admire it properly. The interior walls of the hall were adorned with massive, sweeping murals.

This was the administrative temple, the workplace of the High Priest, and so there were many murals depicting Tyranus, the true founder of the Church of Order.

The largest mural before him depicted Tyranus sitting upon a flight of steps, while upon the higher steps in front of him sat the God of Order. However, the God of Order did not reveal his entire divine form in the mural, only his knees and hands were visible. Through this composition, it successfully conjured a grand, awe-inspiring image of the God of Order looking down from on high.

Tyranus held a blank book in his hand, which was likely the initial draft manuscript of The Light of Order.

Additionally, Tyranus held a quill. The original entity of this artifact was still preserved within the Church, and its facsimiles were utilized in special chambers within certain departments of the faith.

Tyranus was listening to the teachings of the God of Order, his countenance overflowing with a smile of fulfillment and sincerity.

As he gazed at it, Karen could not help but chuckle inwardly.

"The expression on Tyranus's face, why does it look more and more like Alfred the longer I stare at it?"

...

"Achoo!"

In the office, Alfred, who was in the middle of writing a document, sneezed.

Leon asked with concern, "Have you caught a cold? You must look after your health, could it be that you have been too exhausted lately?"

Alfred shook his head, "How could that be."

Wick, however, teased intentionally, "The Regional Director must surely be missing you."

"Wick, you are a perceptive one."